“Supporting the operation will be 1,600 aircraft of the PLAAF. We will not directly engage the islands’ air defenses, but rather will fly to the east of the islands and interdict any enemy aircraft that sortie from Taiwan. We can easily maintain air superiority in these waters at acceptable rates of exchange. Once our artillery knock out the air defenders on Quemoy, we will then move our air power into a direct support role.
“That summarizes the current situation. Should any of you commanders or senior staff have questions at this point, ask them now so that others may benefit. If the question truly only applies to your unit, we may choose to the answer the question later, after this briefing ends.”
Fu looked past the chief-of-staff and sought the solace of his own world. In a day he would be a hero or a fool. Perhaps it was better Father didn’t live to see this day…
19
Eagle Flight
Lieutenant Colonel Dan Alexander, California Army National Guard, reviewed the deployment schedule one more time. So many things to do, so little time. He cleared his head. On the verge of spending more than seven months in-country and it comes down to a mad rush to pack.
Alexander, XO of Task Force Grizzly, was activated for Indonesian peacekeeping duty along with more than 2,000 of his fellow Golden State Guardsmen some two months before. He would soon board the massive C-17 Globemaster with his M-1 tank Traveller and spend the better part of the next 24 hours flying to Bandung, Indonesia, scene of some of the most vicious ethnic and religious violence in that troubled nation.
After linking up with the Pakistani battalion at the airport, Alexander’s advance party would send an “all clear” to Ft. Polk (where the Guardsmen trained up for six weeks) signaling the clearance to begin flying in the rest of Task Force Grizzly on giant C-5 Galaxies.
The flight to Indonesia would begin mid-day Thursday. The first leg would take the advance party non-stop to Elmendorf AFB in Alaska. One in-flight refueling would enable the four heavily laden Globemasters to make it to Alaska. On Friday morning at about 0400 hours, the four Globemasters would take off, graze the Aleutian Island chain, cross the international date line, refuel north of Japan, refuel again southwest of Okinawa, then land, 14 hours later, in Bandung Indonesia.
The jet lag for the last portion of the flight would be tough. In 14 hours of flight they’d lose a day but chase the sun the entire way, landing at 1000 hours on Saturday in Indonesia. As he always did on military aircraft, Dan planned to sleep as much as possible.
As he repacked his duffel bag (one of two), Dan reflected on his opinion of the deployment. In the intensity of training and preparing for the mission he hadn’t the time or the luxury to think of why he was going — why he was leaving his wife and children behind and letting his private law practice die on the vine. Dan knew the mission had a noble intent. What he doubted was that there would be any lasting impact from his efforts. They’d keep a lid on the killing while they were deployed, but eventually, America would lose patience or be called elsewhere to execute a more pressing mission. In the end, Dan knew he would be risking life and limb and financial hardship for nothing. He thought about the people who ordered him on this mission, I wonder if they know what they’re doing to the military? The force that won the Cold War and defeated the fourth largest army in the world with an intense air campaign and 100 hours of fighting on the ground is slowly being ground to dust by the strain of constant deployments — Heaven help us if a real enemy emerges in the next few years.
The final briefing before the planned invasion of Quemoy was on Friday evening. Fu could barely wait for it to begin. He knew that sleep would be very hard to come by that night. Imagine how much worse it would be for the Taiwanese defenders to sleep tonight if they only knew of our plans!
Fu walked into the briefing room in the command bunker. Admiral Wong himself stood behind the podium—most unusual. He looked ill at ease. Perhaps the same pre-invasion jitters everyone else has. Fu felt somehow comforted to know that even the hardened military officers were not immune to anxiety.
The admiral cleared his throat. “All preparations are in place. Everything is ready. There are two issues, however, that concern me and greatly complicate our planning.”
Fu’s blood began to run cold—is this man going to wash his hands of a potential failure? Is he a defeatist? Fu’s antenna were up and he carefully gauged the room, looking for any facial clues that could support an understanding of what the admiral was going to say. Only the face of the intelligence officer revealed anything. He looked grimly determined.
Wong cleared his throat again, this time twice. Was he afraid? Sick? The pit of Fu’s stomach churned. Only nine hours to H-Hour and the invasion’s leader was in turmoil. Admiral Wong began slowly, “One of our signals intelligence vessels has been shadowing an American amphibious task force for the last 48 hours. The Americans came within 100 kilometers southeast of our bases on the Paracel Island group in the South China Sea.”
We all know where the Paracels are — get to the point! Fu wanted to say.
“This task force contains four U.S. Navy ships with more than 2,000 U.S. Marines on board. Intelligence expects them to be entering the Taiwan Strait just as we commence our operation. We believe the task force is carrying a U.S. Marine unit back to its base in Okinawa after a tour in Indonesia. We are uncertain as to why it is going to enter the strait; perhaps it is due to the growing strength of the typhoon that is building to the east of Luzon Island — which brings me to the second issue of concern: weather.”
Fu decided he could wait no more. This man was poisoning the atmosphere of victory with the thick mists of defeat. “Admiral Wong, surely you’re not suggesting that we allow four American ships that will be what—100 or 200 kilometers away in international waters — prevent China’s lawful actions to retake its own territory from rebellious reactionaries?” Fu arched his eyebrows expectantly at the end of his statement, inviting Admiral Wong to rise to the occasion.
The admiral paused. He knew the political officer was setting a trap for him — one does not rise to the rank of admiral in the PLAN without a deep understanding of political matters. The admiral swallowed and said in a strong, clear voice, “No comrade Fu, no one here has suggested that we call off the invasion — no one that is until you mentioned it.”
Fu rocked imperceptibly back in his chair. The admiral directly challenged him in front of the more than 30 officers of the command and staff! And he was right! Perhaps it was Fu for whom the trap was set! Fu had to quickly think of a way out of this confrontation with dignity. It was essential that he keep the confidence of the senior leadership of the operation, “Then perhaps we should ask the Foreign Ministry to invite the Americans to send an observer from their task force to watch our operations!”
The room was silent for a split second, then, thankfully, a gruff divisional commander in the back of the room realized the political officer had just made a joke and started laughing. A fraction of a second later the bunker exploded with laughter. A little too loud, Fu thought, but healthy.